Watching You
by MorbidxAngel
Summary: The obsession of loving someone who doesn't know you exist. Told in the OC's point of view. Features Jack Swagger and Kelly Kelly


Thank you to NinthWonderAssociations for the very sweet review of **Let Down**. It was the extra push I needed to write again. Thank you.

**Warning: **I'm not Kelly Kelly's number one fan, so there is a fair bit of nastiness towards her.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the WWE Superstars. I just own the unnamed OC.

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**Watching You**

Look at me.

Go on, look at me.

Please?

Just once?

Look at me?

Look at me?

My mantra, recitation in my head. As if by the force of will I could make him see me. Just to turn his head and meet my staring eyes.

I mean, it wouldn't hurt would it? Just to look at me at least once? I know he's too busy talking and being popular to notice me. They're all there, perched on tables, leaning against walls. All of them leaning in. They actually remind me of a flock of vultures hovering above the carcass of a dead animal, waiting for their moment for the competition to falter, for just that split second, so they can swoop in and tear off their pound of flesh.

Not the nicest of visuals, I must admit.

Oh well.

Everybody wants something from somebody. For now they're content with what they get from him.

In normal situations I would be the prey. The new girl. Oh yeah, what goes on behind the scenes is nothing what you'd expect. We're not all treated like Kings and Queens. You have to earn respect. I hadn't earned that respect yet, so like some high school outcast I sat on the sidelines looking in. I was hidden by a ghastly aging pot plant. It looked as though it had seen better days; the once green leaves were drooping pathetically as I watched safely. They wouldn't see me staring. No, they had other things on their minds.

The object of their attention (and mine), sat in the centre of their circle like a king commanding his court. Another good analogy, I should try to remember these. When you're alone as much as I am, your mind comes up with some pretty creative things to entertain itself. Maybe one day I could them to somebody. Make them laugh, in a good way. They'd laugh so loud that he would hear and he would laugh with us too.

Then he'd come over.

And sit.

And laugh with us too.

Jack.

My handsome Jack.

The king of his court.

It's true in a way. The way he sits, so relaxed in the centre of the surrounding wall of chattering faces. He slips so smoothly from one to the next, a word, a smile, a touch on the shoulder. Hugs belong to those in the inner sanctum, the High Court. Flesh touching flesh, that's a rare privilege, like respect, you had to earn it. Earn your place next to Jack.

Every single tough makes my own flesh crawl with envy. Why can't it be me? I've fantasised about it so many times in my frenzied mind. I can almost feel his fingers, brushing like suede on the back of my neck.

His head turns.

Yes?

... Yes?

Yes!!!

... No, he dropped something. Stupid me.

I put my head down. I wish I had remembered my sunglasses, its times like these that I need them. I'm not a stalker, by the way.

No, of course not. I just like to know what he's doing... All the time... Without him seeing me.

That's all.

You understand, right? I mean... look at him. Look past the cackling mob of people and just see him. Look his gorgeous blond hair. The way he dresses; jeans and a shirt today. I often have to resist the urge to touch him when he walks by me, the smell of his aftershave lingering on behind him. I really do sound like someone who has a high school crush. I loved the colour of his crystal blue eyes, and the golden hue of his skin.

But I can see more than that. That's just the little stuff; I'm telling you I _know _him. The way his face lights up just before leaving the Gorilla. The way his eyes scrunch up when he laughs. When he get's excited, his cute lisp is more pronounced. How he runs his hands through his hair when he's nervous; he does that quite a lot, I don't think he's used to being the leader of the pack.

He retreats into himself when he's troubled. He sits away from the group, hiding his face beneath his baseball cap, sometimes pulling a hood up over his head so all that you can see is the line of his mouth beneath a band of shadow. He folds his arms across his chest and bows his head, pulling his lower lip into his mouth and chewing on it distractedly. The way he hides his hands in his sleeves, it's as if he's trying to hide.

I hate it when he's like that; it makes my stomach twist in pain. I bite my nails until the tips of my fingers bleed, to stop myself from getting up and going over to him. In those moments I just want to help him so bad, it feels as though my heart is bleeding too.

I _could _help him if he'd only look at me.

Look at me?

Please?

Could it... could it be? He was turning again, the conversation with Cody dying on his perfect lips as his head swung around. Staring, searching. Could it be that he had finally felt my piercing gaze on him, that he knew that I was watching him? I can feel my heart beating faster. Anxiety and anticipation building, wondering what he'd do if he knew. What could happen?

He was half rising, the chair sliding back causing a screeching noise. Some of the older guys who were sitting close by turned around to see who it was getting to their feet. He was waving, moving towards me, closer and closer. He had seen me, he...

_... He walks over to me, smiling his winning smile. The light of my own love reflected back in his beautiful blue eyes. _

"_We haven't met properly. I'm Jack." _

"_I know," I answer, calm and cool, without any hesitation. _

_My body is arranged seductively on the chair, he can't help wanting me. He knows how much I love him and he knows for certain that he loves me too. He reaches out, stroking my cheek tenderly before gently lifting my chin upwards, so that my eyes are gazing into his. He pulls me up, our lips, hands and bodies collide. It's a beautiful tangled mess of hair, and skin. It's beautiful, it's love, it's lust and sweat and he loves me. He _loves _me, he lo-_

... He's waving. Behind me. He's waving to someone behind me. It's never me.

With my heart still pounding from the intensity of my fantasy, I'm caught by surprise when somebody rudely pushes their way around me, bumping my chair so hard that I almost tumble to the floor.

Whoever it was didn't say anything to me, they didn't even acknowledge me, preferring instead to make their way swiftly towards Jack. He's still waving. Waving at the object of my hate, my rival, my nemesis. I could see her now. Jack was waving to his girlfriend.

Kelly.

Fucking.

Kelly.

She's so thick that her mother had to name her twice.

Let me explain Kelly to you. She's a whore. Everyone knows it. She flaunts her skinny body, her cute little ass (not in my opinion), and smirks right in their faces. They fall over themselves in their eagerness to screw her. What's up with that?

I don't see the attraction. But then again I'm a heterosexual woman. I suppose to a man she is attractive, in a Barbie doll kind of way. I never liked Barbie dolls; I was always a Cabbage Patch doll kind of girl while I was growing up. In fact I still have my very first Cabbage Patch doll that my parents bought me for my very first Christmas. She had a beanie body and a rock hard head, which was baled. Anyway, Barbie's never interested me. They all flock around Kelly, one after another. Or possibly two after the other if she's feeling particularly energetic.

I wouldn't put it past her.

I like to think that she possibly drugs them. That maybe she's a serial rapist. Can women be rapists? I guess they can. Then it would be even easier to hate her.

The thing that always baffles me is that she enjoys what people say about him. She revels in it. She always likes to be centre of attention. And she learnt a long time ago, that the best way to make someone pay attention to you is to offer them something.

She offers her body.

They rarely refuse it.

Jack certainly didn't.

I've never understood what he was thinking. Of all the women he could have, why does Jack have to pick the annoying, easy, hooker-for-free whore? The woman who didn't do relationships until right now. It's not fair!

And why does Barbie... I mean Kelly, why does she have to pick the gorgeous and amazing Jack? The guy who has never had a serious relationship. The guy has always been free and open on the market. It's not fair!

Why couldn't Jack pick me? I'm the one who spends hours picking out clothes to wear for the day. Is it because I wear skirts that cover my whole ass? Or that I don't wear tops so low cut that I have my chest hanging out? Maybe... He seems to like that.

I'm the one that loves him.

Not her.

Open your eyes Jack! Can't you see what's in front of you?

Now Kelly's sitting on Jack's knee, playfully rubbing her finger up and down Jack's neck, leaning in...

_Warm lips on skin, heat rising, curling at the edge of consciousness. Golden fingers gripped in blond hair..._

_Love hurts. Loss hurts. Nothing hurts more than this, the burning fire, stoked by the hand of dismissal and scorn. Why is it never ME!!!_

Break the kiss. Slut. I hate her.

But I love what she loves.

My eyes are narrowed into slits. I can feel my hands shaking from the tension in my body. Is it bad that I want to kill her right now? Jack can kiss her goodbye. In my warped little head she's been dead forever. But no one can see inside this skull. Jack can't or he'd be here right now wouldn't he? Wouldn't he?

Am I crazy?

I didn't think I was, because crazy people can't feel this bad. Insanity is like a one-stop ticket to your own personal world. Where the badness doesn't hurt you and he isn't fucking what you hate!

I didn't even know that I had made a fist until my fingers unfurled like claws. I've made my palm bleed where my nails have dug in. I notice my finger nails are bleeding again, have I been chewing on them? I hadn't noticed. Maybe while my heart was racing it somehow burst, and now blood was swelling up inside me, pushing its way out of any place it could.

I'll bleed for you Jack.

Until then, I'll watch.

And wait.

The happy couple are sitting like King and Queen of their court, while the Fool seethes in the shadows. The Fool knows that the King loves her really, and she knows that the Queen is a fake. It's just temporary. She'll dance till the dawn for the plastic laughing court, and dream of being loved one day. She'll just watch them laugh until they can laugh no more.

Always watch.

Watch him until his eyes are open.

Until he-

Finally-

Looks at me.

Look at me?

Just once.

Please?

Look at me.

I love you.

And you love me.

And you're going to look at me.

Now.

Now?

... Now?

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**Thanks for reading. **

**Angel  
xxx**


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